


After-Hours

by mechanicaljewel



Category: Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Genre: Community: wildefic, M/M, Masturbation, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-24
Updated: 2005-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicaljewel/pseuds/mechanicaljewel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What exactly did Basil mean by putting too much of himself into Dorian’s portrait? Pre-novel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After-Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I’m pretty sure The Picture of Dorian Gray is in the public domain, but in any case, do you really think Oscar Wilde would care?
> 
> Believe it or not, this was indirectly inspired by an episode of “Sesame Street”. (Yes, I am going to hell) It involved painting, and just the thought of painting set off this train of thought that had a stop in the house of some painter in Victorian London whilst he was contemplating his work in progress. Let’s look in, shall we?

The red-orange light of the sunset filtered in through the windows of Basil Hallward’s studio. The artist stood in the middle of the room, palette and brush in hand, facing the large portrait he had been struggling with over the past hour. Indeed, he had been struggling with it since its subject, who after spending all afternoon posing, had left after tea. Of course, he hadn’t just been posing. He glowed with his usual (or unusual, if you like) charm, shone when he smiled, and absolutely blazed when he laughed. It was utterly impossible to pay any attention to any other details of the portrait while he posed, and now that the painting was so near completion, the portrait-Dorian distracted him a great deal from the red drapes he was trying enhance.

While Basil was in the midst of contemplating his muse, Parker came in and began to light the lamps and draw the curtains. Basil awoke from his reverie and stopped Parker just as he was about to close the drapes he was painting.

“Wait, Parker, leave those open,” Basil said, his eyes not leaving the portrait.

“Yes, sir,” Parker answered and move to light the last lamp.

“You may retire for the evening,” Basil informed him.

“Thank you, sir,” Parker answered.

Basil sighed when Parker had left, closing the door behind him. It would not have made any difference whether the butler had closed the drapes or not. Basil knew that nothing would spark, not with this Adonis staring innocently at him. He sighed again and put the palette and brush down on the small table in front of him.

The eyes of portrait-Dorian were teasing him now. Basil slid his hands in his pockets and dared to look defiantly into those sapphire eyes. Immediately he regretted it. He could not look away; those eyes had captured and locked his own. Basil felt a gasp catch in his throat, and his eyes freed themselves enough to travel down to those red rose-leaf lips. His eyes began to droop.

He then realized that he was becoming aroused. Indeed, the tips of his fingers had been brushing along his shaft through his pockets without him even noticing, or indeed, giving them permission to do so. He tried to tell them to stop, but he knew it was useless; he had awakened his senses more vividly than he ever had just using his artist’s eyes. But sensual pleasures were Harry’s domain. He should really stop.

Instead he found himself shrugging off his suspenders and letting his trousers fall around his ankles, followed by his underclothes.

This was madness. No, worse: it was something Harry would do, giving in to temptations of the flesh. 

His hand moved to grasp his organ.

But Dorian was watching him!

Basil started stroking slowly.

“Oh, no,” he whispered. Why had he thought that would deter him? Dorian was watching him, and he was entranced by the young man’s painted gaze. 

“Dorian,” he murmured as he pushed back his foreskin, feeling it slide down his member. Dorian would be as smooth inside. Basil could no longer focus on why this was wrong, he could only feel why it was right.

He pulled a nail lightly over the vein underneath, sliding up to the head. A shudder ran through him, and he felt sure that he saw Dorian’s eyes close with his own. Sliding his hand back down his phallus, he pulled the skin back over the tip. As he started working the skin up and down the shaft, over the tip, down to the base, he forced his eyes to stay open, and Dorian looked on.

“Yes, Dorian.” He looked through the clothes he had so painstakingly brushed on the canvas; his beautiful model was as naked as a Grecian youth, and he was inside. Basil writhed, grinding his groin into his hand, and he saw Dorian move beneath him. Heat rushed through him, and began to fill him. With one final pull, his balls drew up as he toppled over the edge, falling, falling deep into Dorian.

He blinked, and reached for a handkerchief to clean what he had spent on his hand. Bleary-eyed as he did so, he noticed that he had also expelled some onto his palette. He sighed with a sigh that grew from frustration to resignation. He threw down the now-ruined handkerchief and picked up one of his brushes. He absently mixed it in with the paint.

“It was useless anyway,” Basil shrugged. He looked up and saw the drapes. Stunned, he looked back down at the tainted paint. It was impossible. He had finally achieved the color he needed. 

But he couldn’t use that paint.

Then again, who would notice?

No, it was too risky, and too personal.

But he was an artist, and he needed that color.

Yes, he needed that color. And after all, it was his muse that inspired the new hue, so really, it would be an affront to Dorian not to use it.

Basil pulled his trousers back up and grasped a new brush. Dipping it into the now creamy red, he saw where it needed to go. A few swipes over the bulges of the lower folds, a few drops to low-light the golden tassels, and yes—

A little heart-shaped highlight on Dorian’s lower lip.


End file.
